Hats Off
by Chocomint3
Summary: Trust is a very fragile thing, isn't it? It's so easy to unravel the stitches. All you need to do is get close, and watch them break. As everything Rin and Len thought to be secure begins to crumble... the masquerade ball isn't the only thing on their minds. Not by a long shot. The Mad Hatter, the White Rabbit, and a masquerade ball. Short chapters. Not incest.
1. First Stitch: Invitation

Disclaimer: I want to own (an) Oliver (or any other Vocaloid, really), but I don't think I'll use him for much, so it'd be a waste of money. Why am I talking about Oliver in a story where he hasn't even appeared yet (spoiler lol)?

For those of you who may have seen my other story, If So, Exploration, errrr... taking a break? OTL Updates = slow, but surely will come. I'm pretty invested in that story, if that means much, so... yeah

Anyway... I already have ten chapters of this written up. This writing is from like... three months ago, sometime around late June. In addition, I have the intention of 'just getting through,' so even though I do spend much time editing the word choice and such, this writing will not be 'my best' and only practice. (I do hope, though, that the quality is still acceptable!)

I expect this story to be roughly twenty (maybe twenty-five?) chapters long. This idea came to me while I was listening to Alice in Musicland by OSTER project, but events in the musical have no relation to the happenings in this story. Please enjoy!

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**First Stitch: Invitation**

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The sun is smiling through a thin film of clouds, and a light breeze twists through the bustling street, bringing with it the aromas of flowers and fresh-baked breads. The young lord-to-be eyes the hat, running a slender finger along the embroidered cloth. The Mad Hatter catches the transient disappointment that colors his client's features and wishes he can shoot the sun from the sky; it's giving him a terrible headache.

Yuuma, thankfully, is tactful, running a hand through his pastel pink hair and smiling crookedly. "Why the change in style?"

Len scowls at a metal sign across the street ("Hatsune Clothes Shop") and jams his hands into his coat pockets. "No inspiration. None of the designs I produced were satisfactory."

Yuuma hums in understanding and spins the hat, turning away from the street. "I'll wear this to the masquerade. It's better that it isn't too ostentatious."

They enter Len's dim, cluttered workshop and pick their way to the back. "You should tidy your shop a bit. I suspect you'll have many visitors soon. The Queen's masquerade is in half a year." Silence. Len is not inclined to fill it; he knows that what will come out will be bitter. "Did you get your invitation yet?"

As if on cue, the door flies open with a savage clanging of bells. A young woman stands silhouetted in the doorway. The only thing Len can think is that her headpiece reminds him of bunny ears. "I'm looking for a Len Kagamine! Message from the Queen!" Her voice is unnecessarily loud. It echoes as if it were shouted from across a chasm.

He stands, curiosity winning over irritation, and waves a hand. She is almost instantly by his side, thrusting a creamy envelope toward him.

He stares at it, reaching out cautiously. Apparently, he is too slow, because the messenger snatches his arm, yanks it up, and closes his fingers around the envelope. "I have an exceptionally busy day today—so hurry up, alright? I don't have time to loiter! I have to run!" She bobs her head toward the two of them and is gone before Len even has time to say a word.

Yuuma breaks the silence first, leaning over to see the spidery handwriting and the royal phoenix seal adorning the paper. "That would be your invitation, I presume."

Len glances at the door. "So she's the Queen's latest personal messenger?"

A low laugh. "She's lasted more than a month already. Didn't you notice the lack of celebrations?"

Silence.

Yuuma laughs again. "I see. She's the White Rabbit—a cute title for a cute girl; much better than what Her Majesty gave you, hm?"

"You're starting to sound like Mikuo. Stop spending so much time with them." **(1)**

"What a pity. I had planned to stop by... Trust me, inspiration will come soon. Don't stress so much."

Raising a hand in farewell, Yuuma leaves.

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**Word count: 499 words.  
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**(1) Not a mistake. 'Them' refers to Mikuo and his sister, from the Hatsune Clothes Shop across the street.  
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Author Notes:

Request: **Using one sentence (as long as you like it), please describe each character.** I'd like to know if I got across their personalities well. :D

**_Criticism is welcome. Please be objective, critique me in a way that would keep _your_ ego intact and moral high, tell me what you thought I did well in addition to what you thought I could have done better, and provide solutions/suggestions when pointing out things that you felt I could have done a better job with. _**

A few things I'd like to receive feedback on in particular are the **clarity of the events** (Is it easy to follow/understand, or are there places where you felt confused?), the **pace of the story** (some conversations and happenings may appear rushed or choppy; if you feel this way, please provide your reasoning and offer suggestions on how to rectify the matter for future reference. Please keep in mind the word limit when criticizing), and the **strength of the characters** (perpetuating stereotypes or including clichés, I believe, are not relevant. Do the characters have distinct personalities?).

Although these might be better mulled over at the finish of the story, you're welcome to talk about anything at any time, regardless of the status of the story.

But of course, please do not read my story, at least at first, with the eye of a critique/editor but with the eye of a reader seeking to enjoy. XD I'm positive the enjoyment of the story for the both of us will be all the greater that way.

**Thanks for reading, and please tell me what you think!**

This should be the only time I will ever have a note this long appended to a chapter for this story.  



	2. Second Stitch: Social Situation

Here's the second chapter!

...I edited it for an hour or so, so I think it's better now. XD

Wait... I started prepping this for publishing at like 3 PM. It's almost 11 PM now. (WHERE DID ALL THE TIME GO? ;.;)

|||OTL

I got distracted? Dinner called, too... and college apps and stuff... *mumbles more excuses*

Anyway...

It's amazing how much one supporter can do. :D

Heartfelt thanks to mirrorsound, first reviewer and supporter of this story! (Where are my spilling-emotions-in-writing skills when I need them? Oh, wait, those are only mediocre and apply only to characters in stories. ;.;)

NEWCOMERS AND OLD ALIKE, PLEASE ENJOY! (AND REVIEW/FAV/FOLLOW ;.; please)

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**Second Stitch: Social Situation**

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Len twitches in annoyance and rips the paper on his desk in half. The pieces join the fast-rising pile of mangled and rejected designs.

Someone clears her throat. "I thought that was a nice design. Why didn't you keep it? That's a lot of paper you're wasting, and paper doesn't grow on trees, you know—"

Len slams his hands on his desk, standing up with a screech and effectively cutting her off. He glowers at the landscape painting hanging on the wall. "Why are you here?" They both know why she's there, though: the Queen wants at least weekly updates.

His companion, the White Rabbit, flinches. "Alright, alright. Calm down," she says, laughing sheepishly. He grits his teeth, lips forming a thin, hard line, and manages to keep his anger in check as she continues. "Sorry, I'm trying to work on that—it really takes away _so_ much of my time, that I always take so long to get to the point—"

"I'm trying to _work_." Why did Her Majesty have _this_ girl check on him? He'd almost rather be beheaded! Sure, she was a good conversationalist, but...! "_Stop bothering me._"

She's quiet after that. He sits back down, intending to resume working, only to find that his pen is missing. He restrains an anguished scream. _Nothing_ is going right today.

There's the rustling of cloth, and the messenger shoves his pen in front of his face. "Here; it was on the floor."

He takes it, muttering a surprised thank you. He thinks he sees her smile out of the corner of his eye.

His gratitude flees barely fifteen minutes later. The messenger is fidgeting; she's shifting her feet, tapping a fast staccato beat on the ground, adjusting the ribbon in her hair, pacing around the room, examining his displays, humming quietly to herself, and just _won't stop moving_.

"Rabbit," he growls, standing up again. "Could you _stop_? I can't concentrate!" She opens her mouth to speak, but he fixes her with a glare, taking a few steps toward her. She gives him an odd look, but she's still as a statue. If only that'd be more permanent. "How have you even managed to stay in the Queen's good graces for so long? The way you act is like a five year old's!"

The words seem to snap her out of her daze. "Well—I—you—" She takes a breath and straightens, eyes alighting with a haughty blue fire. "—look at yourself! Snapping at everything that doesn't go your way! You act like a spoiled _brat!_" She whips around, hair almost slapping him in the face, and disappears into the darkening day.

Later, while he is lying in bed and mapping out his plans for the next day, he feels a twinge of guilt for snapping at her. Spoiled brat, huh? A set of pale gold eyes flashes before him.

When the messenger returns, maybe he will do something to make amends.

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**Word Count: 492 words.  
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This chapter's request: What do you think of the characters? Has anything changed, etc.? Hopefully, this chapter has shed some new light on them, and perhaps has brung up a few questions?

Feedback on clarity of the events, pace of the story, and strength of characters is welcome! (Any other feedback is welcome too, as long as it's objective and etc., see first chapter lol).SOOO LATE TT_TTI hope you enjoyed~ Thanks for reading!


	3. Third Stitch: Importance

Here's the third chapter~ I should really pace this uploading business better...

Please enjoy!

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**Third Stitch: Importance**

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When he talks with her again, she is surprisingly meek. She knocks on his door, and when he opens it, she waits a while before saying, "The Queen wants a report on how you're doing."

Len frowns. For the past week, he hasn't paid a single hour's worth of attention to the hat; commissions like hers **(1)**—those with few guidelines—require genuine inspiration. He knows the hat will turn out like Yuuma's if he forces himself to work on it.

He doesn't want his head on a stick, so he thinks it best to lie. "I have a rudimentary design."

She tilts her head. The constant artist in him notes that her hair—a wonderful mix of golds and coppers—is particularly beautiful in the evening light. It's a shame thread doesn't come in colors like that. "Sorry for being nosy," she begins, fingers dancing with strands of her hair, "but the Queen doesn't tolerate lies. She's very excited for this event and would like to know more details about what you have in mind."

Len blinks. This girl sees more than she lets on. "Alright; I don't have anything yet. Just tell her I'm making sure the design is absolutely the best, so it'll take awhile to produce something." He waits for her to leave. She doesn't. He sighs. "If you have something to say, hurry up. I don't bite."

She smiles at that, even though he hadn't meant it to be a joke. Her fingers fall to her side. "Is it alright if I observe your work?" When he doesn't respond immediately, she hastily continues. "Many people speak very highly of it, and I wanted to see how you did it, you know? I don't have much fashion sense, but, ah, I like a lot of the designs you make, even though I don't understand what they are—I don't own any myself, but my friend's a fan, even though she doesn't have any either. SeeU, do you know—?"

She's one of those people who talk or move more when nervous, he realizes. Why is she so high-strung? Is he scary or something? He scowls, pushing the door open further. "Come in, then. And don't be so nervous."

She may be a talker, but she is also a good listener and is eager to learn. He finds himself explaining his designs and telling her about a million other things, like how he likes drawing and mingling in the marketplace during rush hours and practically anything that has to do bananas. Sundown has long passed when Rin finally says that she must depart, and when he sees her out the door, he feels the happiest he's been in a week. As he watches her run down the street illuminated by the moon and stars and fire-lamps, he supposes it's only natural.

After all, feeling important breeds happiness.

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**Word Count: 500 words.**

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**(1) Referring to the Queen. Ambiguity can be attributed to word count and my reluctance to delete any sentences.**

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Request: Nothing really comes to mind right now, so... like the previous chapters, feedback on clarity of events, pace of story, strength of characters is welcome!

Please talk to me ;D Like Hatter!Len, I don't bite, so please care enough to talk to me ;.;


	4. Fourth Stitch: Generic

Here's the back-in-June-I-wrote-like-this (and I still write like this OTL) stab at uber-character-centric writing. I also uber-time-skipped here, hahah...haha... I find it really hard to write fluff/every day talking...so I skipped it. :D (/shot) I practice it in writing that will likely never see the light of ffnet. Improvement, come hither... come... hither... .o.

This also happens to be the almost obligatory "Epiphany! I'm in laaaavu!" chapter... except he never *spoilers*

As always, please enjoy!

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**Fourth Stitch: Generic**

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There is something about the White Rabbit that lends to—connections. As they meet again and again, he finds himself wanting to connect more with her, to talk more with her. To simply _be_ with her more.

Rin has a way of endearing herself to people: smiles come easily to her, and she is genuinely enthusiastic about learning about the people she talks with, regardless of their status. This, he thinks, is one of her best traits, and he loves her for it, but it is also one of her worst traits, and he often finds himself wishing (whether he truly means it nor not) that she would be less independent, so that he could be indispensable, irreplaceable, to her.

When they are walking through the streets and she is greeting so many people he doesn't know, he is reminded of just how much she knows about him, just how little he knows about her, and, worst of all, just how _generic_ her actions are. When he sees her give the fishermen and the bakers and the restaurant owners the same smile she gives him, sees her talk to them with that same smiles-and-sunshine, casual yet polite tone, he remembers with a sharp sting that she doesn't value him nearly as much as he values her.

Sometimes, he agonizes over this, neurotically examining her behavior for scratches or cracks or pockmarks—for anything he can use to assure himself that their relationship is not obligatory, not ordinary. Rin visits him more often than just the mandated check up, which surely counts for something, and she cares for his well-being, dragging him out of his shop for walks and talking simultaneously about something and nothing at all.

Other times, he cannot bring himself to care. What happens will happen; in the end, it doesn't matter anyway. Connections, like paints mixed in water, dissipate with time, and leave behind only vague vestiges of what they had once been. In times like these, he (almost) convinces himself that this liking, at most, is just a passing attraction, a momentary longing. The hues of her hair and the sparkle of the impossibly wide spectrum of blues in her eyes, they draw him in with memories of another time and another woman, carefully packed away (the soft, low laughter and a voice full of a mother's pride; the enticing aroma of banana cookies; those countless bedtime stories murmured with hushed effervescence; warm, slender fingers weaving with an artist's precision through his hair). And thus, it's a generic, platonic fondness, like hers is a generic, platonic friendliness.

The idea of this aches, though, and sometimes, he feels like smashing something and curses his untruthful mind with all the expletives of his mother language and some of Asahese. How can he at once know her so well, yet know almost nothing at all?

And so as the days pass into weeks, he balances precariously above the chasm, unable to act yet unwilling to stagnate.

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**Word Count: 500 words.**

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...I may have perpetuated Freudian beliefs. Since I am pretty against Freudian stuff in general, this is a very bad thing for me to do.

LEN DOES NOT HAVE AN OEDIPUS COMPLEX. NO. HE DOES NOT.

;.; He doesn't, okay? Rin isn't anything like *kind-of-spoilers for If So (Is this where self plagiarism comes in? If so (Haha see what I did there? /shot), I'm in trouble, because I recycled a lot of the relations between characters... but not realy? Heh.) LOL*

Anyway...

This is where I say "HELLO, MILD ANGST AND DRAMA!" Do you like how I/he never explicitly stated that he loved her? (I do :D) 'Cause this is how I roll, haha.

To the more serious stuff!

**Request: This is kind of a stand-out chapter, so I'd like to hear what you thought of it relative to the other chapters; was the jump a bit drastic, or was this less clear, etc? (Again, feedback on clarity, pace, and strength of characters?) **

**If you guys want to read a particular interaction—ie. Rin and Len's first meeting after Stitch Three's events ;)—or know something that I didn't cover, etc. please ask! I'll write them in a companion fic thing to this and post it! (Ahah... 80% chance? Heh...)  
**

I hope you enjoyed reading what I have to offer! If you liked it or have something to say, please talk to me! :)


	5. Fifth Stitch: Movement

Back to the less character-centric style of writing! Thanks for all the suggestions! Once I finish writing all the main event and things I'll get around to those! (Or maybe even earlier, seeing as I'm stalling on continuing writing right now... ^.^;;)

Please enjoy!

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**Fifth Stitch: Movement**

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"Tomorrow?"

"Yes, tomorrow."

Len looks away, cursing.

Rin laughs, pulling at his arm. "Stop worrying about it! You work well under pressure, right? I'm sure you'll figure out something before, if not during, the meeting."

"I'm not worried about the Queen." He hasn't truly visited court since his parents moved them out a decade ago. Would someone recognize him?

Rin regards him in silence before letting go of his sleeve, linking her hands behind her back. She spins around and takes a few quick steps toward the door, looking over her shoulder with a smile. In that moment, time stops—inspiration has graced him. _Movement_.

She says something, but he does not respond.

Swift, controlled, graceful, pure—movement. His heart is pounding out a joyful beat, and he can't stop the grin from spreading across his face as the design unfurls before his mind's eye. This, he knows, will be his best yet. Now if only he could gather the right materials...

"Hey, Len? Let's go..." Rin has turned around, and her pleased expression turns into one of confusion. He approaches her, still grinning. "Len... wh—why are you looking at me like that? What ha—ah!"

Her heel hits the squat cabinet near the full-length mirror, and her balance and words break. Len quickly closes the distance between them and latches onto her arm, yanking her toward him. She expresses her gratitude by stumbling onto his foot and hitting his jaw with her head.

Feeling bold, Len pulls her closer and, anticipating a rushed apology, mutters, "I don't mind."

She really does have such wonderful hair... He ignores the heat that's stirred up by the nervousness coursing through him and their intimacy, keeping his voice steady as he breathes into her ear, "Rin—"

"I—I can't!" She pulls away and perches on the cabinet she tripped over, staring at his feet. He can see the red painting her cheek even with the sun's glare dimming the details. "I—I have a suitor, alright!"

A suitor? Len ignores the plunge his stomach has taken and straightens his sleeves. "I was going to ask you if I could use your hair to embellish Her Majesty's hat," venom creeps into his voice, "_not_ if you would be interested in _marrying_ me."

The shade of red Rin now sports on her face is interesting, but not flattering: it matches her scarlet messenger's uniform, and provides no contrast. She moves off the desk, one hand clenching the other so tightly it turns white. "I-"

He speaks over her without thinking. "When you're with your suitor, take care not to make such conceited assumptions." She stares at the ground, hiding her face from his gaze, flinches at his accusation, whispers a shaky apology—one so small and ephemeral that he almost misses it—and rushes out.

He pretends that he's hungry, but that night, he has no appetite.

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**Word Count: 500 words.**

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This is one of those chapters I'm iffy about. Not only the events but also some of the word choices... I rewrote it a bunch of times and tweaked and edited it a lot, and it's still not entirely satisfactory, but... "Just keep writing if it works." It worked, and so I went on.

...But now that I'm reading it again... I just want to tear it down and ALKH:LSDHFOAFJ ;.;

**Request:** The default three, and probably... just things in general... To quote a friend of mine, "Hit me with your best shot." LOL ;) I get lonely sometimes, so please talk to me!


	6. Sixth Stitch: Eccentricities

Haaah... three days into school, and I'm already feeling really tired... I must concoct some sort of remedy...

Anyway, here's the next stitch/chapter/installment/update! ;)

Please enjoy!

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**Sixth Stitch: Eccentricities**

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It is surprisingly easy to set aside his thoughts of Rin while he is 'conversing' with the other craftspeople of the Queen's Ring. The Queen is in good spirits today and has not only given them free reign, but has also ordered them to discuss over lunch of a royal caliber. ("The nobles," the March Hare—the shoemaker, Gumo—comments, smirking as if he has won a personal victory, "will be _stewing_ when they hear of this.")

Gumo is chattering away, occasionally pausing to give Len expectant looks. The Cheshire Cat, SeeU—a prolific seamstress and Rin's friend—is giggling and glancing at them. Len doesn't care much about coming across as laconic or disinterested, until Gumo brings up the White Rabbit in a manner he doesn't _quite_ like.

"—cute. I always treat her like a princess when she comes around—"

Len stabs his steak with a bit more force than necessary. The screech of metal on porcelain pauses all conversation.

SeeU and Gumo burst into laughter.

Cheeks tinged with red, Len sets down his fork and glares at Gumo. "What?"

Gumo catches his breath and wipes at his eyes. "You'll have to be more specific, Mad Hatter." Len intensifies his glare, but Gumo's pleasant expression doesn't waver. "You know, Len, you're cute when you're mad..." his grin grows wider, "in a manly way, obviously."

Len resists the urge to swear at the taller man. "Not interested." As Gumo laughs, Len concludes that he is harder to understand than Rin is. "Gumo... What are you doing?"

Gumo smirks. "What, am I _hopping around_ too fast for you to follow? I'm just kidding around. Anyway," he sobers, but there is still a ghost of a smile on his lips, "I heard Rin's got a sweetheart. Isn't that right, SeeU?"

SeeU nods. "Swears up a storm, true to his profession's prototype, but he has the manners of a nobleman when he's with her." She laughs at Gumo's melodramatic crestfallen expression. "She talks about the dates, ah—wistfully? So she probably loves someone else."

"Who is it?" The words are out before Len can swallow them.

SeeU smiles teasingly. "What, the apple of her eye, or her lov—"

"The—man who's courting her, who is he?"

"A deckhand. Easy on the eyes... or should I say, easy on the _eye_?" She laughs.

Gumo flaps a hand at her. "Hey, no puns! That's a bit cruel, you know?"

SeeU ignores him. "A shame, because his eye color is rare. He goes by Oliver."

"Oliver—what?"

"Just Oliver. Rin likes a bit of mystery, doesn't she?"

Len stays as detached as possible for the rest of the afternoon, trying to glean some productivity while ignoring their teasing. He isn't entirely successful; when the meeting adjourns, he is in low spirits. He passes through the seaside market, taking a longer route home, and catches bell-like laughter on the wind.

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**Word Count: 500 words.**

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**Request:** NEW CHARACTERS WERE INTRODUCED! XD As such, please give each of them a one sentence description? (Like the request back in the first stitch!) Oliver doesn't really count, but if you want, you could do him too. :)

...I remember for this one, I was running out of room... So it's really a highlight more than anything else. The next meeting is what I'm really interested in~ It's taking me so long to organize and write it though...

Anyway, thanks for reading!


	7. Seventh Stitch: Encounter

A/N: Hey, everyone! It's been a while, hasn't it? I'm feeling kind of sad today.

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**Seventh Stitch: Encounter**

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Half a week has passed, and Len has taken to wandering down to the sea in the evenings; what with his parting remark and her 'suitor,' he figures there is no need to loiter at home—she will not visit him. (But she has visited his shop—there was a note pinned to his door when he returned yesterday, notifying him of the next Ring's meeting.)

The next meeting is exactly one week from the last. He's bogged down with commissions—to name a few, Miku Hatsune from across the street came in for measuring a few days ago, and the Asahese noble lady Luka Megurine is to meet with him tomorrow to pick out designs—and as hat-making is no quick business, he is running out of time. The outfit _must_ be agreed upon and measurements _must_ be made.

His mind is filled with lists and plans and drawings, until it turns to Rin. He stops and catches a faint but unmistakable voice.

A fluttering sensation blossoms in his chest, his heart pounding out a fast Asahese folk rhythm, loud and invasive and unavoidable. With a dreadful anticipation, he turns sharply toward the voice and sees a wooden building, modeled like a shack but definitely better kept—a restaurant. He retraces his steps to find the side of the restaurant—the "See-Sea's"—and finds what he's looking for. Outdoor seating, decorated with strings of seashells and oil lamps with flames that flicker like fireflies, outlooks the seaport. (A vague, fleeting thought: he wonders if Rin has ever seen fireflies dancing over water. Maybe one day he can bring her to that village where he spent the second half of his childhood free of an heir's burdens.)

He spots the couple on the far side of the platform and almost doesn't recognize Rin—her signature white ribbon has been switched out for a fancier one that ties a small bunch of her hair into a side ponytail and she's wearing a dark blue summer dress. He can't see the man she is with—Oliver—clearly from his vantage point, so he moves closer at a leisurely stroll, hands shoved deep into his trench coat.

"—shame that you don't sing, Rin. I'm sure the very sea would calm to listen." The soft, lilting voice of a tenor. Len stops, outrightly scrutinizing Rin's one-eyed blonde date. No mere deckhand would be capable of such smooth talk—he'd assumed SeeU was exaggerating, but...

"Oliver, stop flattering me." He can hear the smile in Rin's voice. "Let's just—forget that we're on a date, alright? It makes me nervous, and—" she waves her hands, "—oh—it's not that I don't like you or anything! I really do—"

Oliver laughs and catches one of her hands, effectively stopping her rambling. He speaks to Rin but looks straight at Len. "Someone's here to provide dramatic intervention. I hope he's just the—" he mutters something under his breath, "—overprotective brother you forgot to mention?"

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**Word Count: 499 words.**

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_Guest Review Reply_ :D

SugarxStars: Ahh, first guest reviewer! And a silent reader speaking up! Hello, and thank you very much for reviewing! XD

:( Gumo and SeeU may have similar attitudes in that they're both cheerful, somewhat share a sense of humor, and like teasing, but they're not the same. I value every person as their own, and I believe that every person is unique. I try my best not to create two characters who are exactly the same, in honor of these beliefs. I apologize for not making the difference clear enough, and I'll do my best to bring their differences out at the next opportunity! Thank you for your feedback! I really appreciate it and hope that you will continue to share it! :D

I've limited myself to increase my chances of finishing the story and to test how much emotion I could bring out in every 500 words. It's really inconvenient sometimes, but I think it's really helped me to keep going with this. I originally hoped this would also be simple, but… I guess I just don't want to leave the story hanging without dealing with the characters' pasts.

**TO ALL WHO READ MY WORKS:**

"**I like this!" is totally insight! It tells me that I'm doing something 'right' because there are people who enjoy the story and that I should continue writing! I want to meet all the people who are reading the stories I write, so please talk to me!**

**It makes me really happy to see numbers become people! Hits and follows and the number of visitors are just numbers, but when the people who clicked on my story(ies) talk to me… they're not just numbers anymore, they're people who breathe and laugh and cry and hope, and… and… I get the chance to connect with them and it's just really wonderful for me. :'D I'm so full of emotions I can't even properly express it! Thank you all so much!  
**

WOW LOOK AT THIS IT'S ALMOST AS LONG AS THE CHAPTER ITSELF.

(The above was written 20 days ago, on September 2nd. What I said still holds. It'll hold forever, I think, as long as I live, or something.)

**Request: A WILD OLIVER HAS APPEARED. WHAT DO YOU DO? The usual thing, right? CAPTURE HIM WITH ONE SENTENCE! **:D

Well, I guess today I just feel a bit lonely, haha. Isn't it interesting that Luka's come all the way from Asahi to go to the masquerade ball? Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! I'll have the next one up soon, I think.

(...I didn't organize this A/N so well, did I? Well, I hope you still read it!)


	8. Eighth Stitch: Memory

Hello everyone! ^_^ I updated within a week for the first time in two or three chapters or something~ *silence, then canned applause*

Anyway, I'm feeling better now that I'm almost done with getting rec letters from my teachers (being socially inept as I am, I worry a lot... well, I worry a lot about everything, really OTL) and like, I dunno, stress less? And the weekends seem to always lift my spirits, too. Ah, anyway, please enjoy! :D (I hope you guys don't have to go back to the last chapter, because this one picks up right at where the other one left off...)

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**Eighth Stitch: Memory**

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Something unpleasant twists in Len's gut. Oliver's eye is a deep yellow-ochre, similar to his father's—but where Rei's eyes are sharp like metal and full of feelings Len could not recognize as a child, Oliver's eye holds a surely impossible combination of innocence and wisdom, judgement and understanding. (Why is it that all of the golden-eyed people he meets are so captivatingly unique?)

Oliver, Len realizes, is waiting for a response. For whatever reason, no one, not even Rin, says anything. Len feels like the deckhand is posing for a portrait with the amount of movement he is exhibiting. (Maybe he will paint the scene he sees today someday. It's certainly interesting enough... Of course, he'd rather not burn it into his mind, but it's already too late.)

Len shifts his hands in his pockets, resisting the urge to break eye contact with Oliver and look at Rin. "You're mistaken; I'm not related to her in any way."

He makes the mistake of glancing at her and sees her dip her head lower, her unclipped hair hiding her face from view. Oliver sees her movement as well and reaches over, brushing her hair out of her face and gently forcing her to look at him. "Ho, Rin..."

Her eyes are brighter than the sky and glint like polished stones. Rin blinks, and the shine in her eyes dims, slipping down her cheeks. She moves as if to lift a hand to her face. "I—I'm sorry..." Her eyes slide toward Len's direction before snapping back to focus on Oliver. She manages a small smile. "I'm sorry. I just... remembered... something."

The deckhand sits back and pulls a handkerchief from his coat pocket, offering it to her. She takes it, mumbling a thanks.

Len tells himself he'll ask Oliver who he really is if they meet again. (And they will. Len will make sure of it.)

"If it's family business, I'm not allowed to know quite yet, right?" Oliver smiles at her with a soft expression that Len wants to rip off his face.

The surprise Rin wears that melts into warmth doesn't help his urge to keep Oliver alive, either, so he says, on impulse and somewhat sourly, "Apologies for interrupting."

The pair looks at him as he moves closer and places a hand on the low fence that separates them. He continues, "I meant no disrespect in disrupting your—" he lifts the hand from the divider to indicate their arrangement, "—this. But, you see, I'm a painter. I'd be most overjoyed if I could, ah, have you as my subjects."

Rin, who seems to have recovered from her episode, gives him a half-confused, half-incredulous look and frowns, but does not speak.

Oliver quips, "Whatever floats your boat."

Len nods and returns his hand to his pocket. He lingers for a moment, passing his eyes across their faces, before walking away.

He doesn't look back.

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**Word Count: 498 words.**

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Considering that I had ten of these chapters typed out when I started posting and haven't written much since, I really should get writing again, haha. _Starting from the Eleventh Stitch, update lengths will be longer than 500 words and there may be (probably will be) a change in style. Maybe. LOL._

**Request:** "HAVE YOU AS MY SUBJECTS." I couldn't figure out a better way to put this without going over the limit and keeping the style that he spoke in. OTL **Anyone have any suggestions?** Also... Len, haha. **Speculation/thoughts about him? And maybe Rin? ...And Oliver too? :D** **_I changed the summary! It looks like things are only just kicking off, wow... I feel like I promised too much, lol. What do you guys think about it?_**

These chapters are so awkward... hopefully I'll be able to smooth things out a bit later on and show improvement or something, haha. I'm kind of a scatterbrained person, not very organized, so my plots... haha. I'll hope to make sense of it soon. :)

I hope you enjoyed reading! Please talk to me! It really brightens my day and stuff! :D


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